


always coming back for more

by rea_vkm (readeption)



Series: after hours [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Glove Kink, M/M, Masturbation, Mutual Masturbation, keith's gloves, voltron kink meme
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-07
Updated: 2018-04-07
Packaged: 2019-04-19 17:16:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,359
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14242062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/readeption/pseuds/rea_vkm
Summary: Lance steals Keith's gloves.Afillfor the Voltron Kink Meme, itself inspired by emuyh'sart.





	always coming back for more

**Author's Note:**

> a big thank-you to anon, emuyh and my friend Emily for looking this over <3

Lance swears he doesn’t mean for it to happen.

He was just looking, okay? Looking for Keith. He needed a sparring partner. Shiro was with Allura and Coran in the control room. Hunk and Pidge were who-knows-where working on Rover 2.0. And Lance was… Lance was lonely.

But there’s no answer when he knocks. ‘Mullet?’ he calls. ‘Keith?’ Silence. He supposes Keith might be inside, taking a catnap, or reading, or anything at all, and not wanting to see Lance.

Lance pushes open the door. The room is dark and he reaches for the light.

Keith isn’t here. His bed is rumpled but empty. There are clothes discarded, strewn all over the floor.

‘Uh. Keith?’ Jesus, his room is messy. Lance blames it on the uneventfulness of the last few days. Lack of organisation. Which of course is what made _him_ stir-crazy in the first place, and spoiling for a fight.

Keith’s left his gloves on the end table.

But Keith doesn’t go _anywhere_ without those gloves. Except if he was like, in the shower, or something.

Lance whips round to see if the bathroom light’s on. It’s not. And unless Keith likes to take his showers in the dark – which wouldn’t surprise Lance – he’s not here.

Huh.

Maybe he’s at the pool?

Lance looks at the gloves again. Pool seems the best bet.

Keith _loves_ these gloves.

It would be funny to nick them. Get under Keith’s skin the way he knows just how to get under Lance’s.

Lance walks forward cautiously to pick them up. They’re small and made from soft, worn leather. They look strange against Lance’s skin, brown as it is.

Lance shouldn’t be doing this. It might upset Keith or anger him.

Lance does it anyway, before heading to the simulation room by himself.

* * *

At dinner Keith’s hair is damp and tousled. Lance is late – he was in his room, gazing at the gloves – and by the time he got to the hall the only seat left was next to Keith.

Who smells like…

Who smells _good_.

* * *

After dinner Lance slinks back to his room. He’s tired and worn out from training. Hunk’s delicious but starchy food has made him sleepy and he really just wants to curl up and stay there until possibly the morning.

But he goes through the motions with a hot shower and his skin routine, which at night is really just a face wipe and some plucking of stray hairs. He still feels weirdly agitated, though.

As Lance tosses and turns in bed, shifting to find a good position, his hands shift around of their own accord. He stretches and bends his legs. He stretches and bends his arms. He kicks back the covers, lifts up his butt with his hands and extends the long limbs up towards the ceiling.

‘Still got it,’ he yawns. He runs a hand down the length of his thigh and idly rubs into it. Does the same with the other. The massage yields relaxing, satisfying warmth which travels up into his belly, and he squirms a little on the bed, nestling.

Slowly he moves his hand from the lower hem of his boxers, high on his thighs, to the elasticated band at his hips. He rests his head on the pillow and closes his eyes before slipping his fingers beneath and forward, through the coarse hair to the hot, soft flesh of his dick.

It swells quickly under his attention, and Lance settles in to a steady pace, eventually pulling down his boxers altogether. He’s quiet, the only sound that escapes a small gasp when he presses his thumb into his slit before dragging down the precum.

It’s good, but it’s staid. Lance never thought he’d use that word about his masturbation habits, but it’s true.

 _Just a quick one before bed_ , he thought earlier. But now… now he wants more.

He thinks of the vial of alien lube in the middle drawer, but doesn’t really want to go there, tonight.

The real problem… the real problem is that he’s tired of being alone. He wants someone else to touch him, to care for him the way he cares for himself, to touch him as tenderly as he needs. To whisper affection and desire into his ear.

Lance shivers.

He can’t _have_ another’s touch, but maybe – he thinks of the gloves – perhaps he can approximate it?

Shit, that’s hot. It’d be _wrong_ to use Keith’s gloves like that, _especially_ without him knowing. And if Keith found out?

But fuck if it wouldn’t make his whole life better.

Okay. He’s doing this.

At least he’s _clean_ , he thinks. And he’s definitely not going to finger himself with them. Really, it’s just skin. He won’t get any come on them or anything.

With his free hand, Lance reaches behind him for the top drawer of the bedside table, and gropes around inside for the gloves. A twitch in his cock when he finds them tells him, in the back of his mind at least, that this won’t be only for tonight.

He puts on the gloves. Very slowly, he returns to stroking himself.

Lance groans at how different and how good it feels. He keeps one hand clenched into the flesh of his thigh, touching himself with the other –

 _with Keith’s_ –

Keith’s hands. Keith’s hands touching him, Keith leant over him, _watching_ , Keith whispering into his ear – Lance can almost hear it –

‘ _Fuck_ ,’ Lance grunts, and tears his hands away as he comes, wet streaks landing on his chest. He pulls off the gloves extremely fast and throws them back in the drawer, slamming it.

‘ _Fuck_.’

* * *

In the morning, Keith asks if anyone knows where his gloves are.

‘Has anyone seen them?’ he asks anxiously. ‘I left them in my room when I went for a swim and when I came back they were gone.’ He looks at Allura anxiously. ‘Do you think it could have been the mice?’

She raises an eyebrow. Lance exhales. Keith doesn’t suspect him.

How could he?

Even if he thought Lance stole them (which is true) he wouldn’t be able to guess the full extent of the blue paladin’s sins. Lance feels the black spear of shame pierce his gut. But he can’t give the gloves back now.

He imagines it. Going to Keith’s room with them. What would he say? That he just found them around the castle?

Lance is _so bad_ at lying. So bad.

He’s just going to have to keep them forever, then. And hope Keith forgets.

* * *

Throughout the day, the glove thing is pretty much all that’s on Lance’s mind. Mostly it’s a thick desire that if not suppressed will seep, he is sure, into his nervous system. He manages to beat Pidge and then Hunk on the training deck. By the end of it his stomach muscles are sore and his arms feel heavy. But still, his mind lands on the gloves.

After dinner, Lance escapes to his room, turns out the light and does everything almost the same as before. He tries not to make any sound, but isn’t sure quite what noise escapes him when he trails his fingers down the underside of his cock, over his balls and taint to nudge at the furled opening, imagining Keith’s hand there instead.

Keith would kneel there, between Lance’s thighs… hands a possessive hold on his hips, spreading him apart as he caressed Lance with hot, slick fingers –

Lance moves his hand. _No_ , he thinks foggily. He’s not going to do that, not going to use Keith’s gloves – Keith – like that. Not unless Keith wants it.

Does Keith want it?

* * *

 Whether or not Keith wants _Lance_ , he definitely wants his gloves. He has not forgotten.

What if Lance made having him a condition of getting the gloves back? Would Keith do it?

Would Keith do it without the gloves?

Over the nights and mornings that follow, Keith looks more and more frazzled. He looks naked without the gloves. Finally, one breakfast, he asks the whole table, ‘Is everyone absolutely sure they haven’t seen them?’

‘I’m sorry,’ says Allura, looking genuinely sad for him. ‘I haven’t seen them anywhere.’

‘It’s just.’ Keith looks so _tired_. His mouth wobbles. ‘I really don’t have very much to my name.’ He rubs his eyes. ‘I miss them,’ he says. ‘I know it’s stupid.’

Lance feels so fucking guilty. He knows now that nothing is worth this. ‘It’s not stupid,’ he finds himself saying, in a voice far from what he’s actually feeling. To distress Keith in such a way, and all for a few slightly better orgasms? He’s disgusted with himself.

Keith just looks at him.

‘Excuse me,’ Lance says, pushing his chair back from the table and swigging back the last of his juice. ‘I don’t feel very well.’

* * *

It’s early evening when Keith knocks on his door.

‘Lance?’

‘Yeah?’

‘Can I come in?’

‘Um, what for?’

A silence while Lance’s heart beats hard in his throat. Then: ‘I thought my gloves might have got lost in the laundry. Can I come in and check?’ A pause. ‘Please?’

Lance grabs the gloves and stuffs them in his trouser pocket. ‘Yeah okay.’

Keith opens the door and sticks his head round. He’s pale and there are shadows under his eyes. ‘Hi,’ he says, smiling.

‘Hi.’

Keith comes in and closes the door. Lance draws up his legs and hunches back on his bed.

‘You okay?’ asks Keith idly from his position on the floor, rifling through the pile of clean clothes next to the table.

‘Yep,’ says Lance tightly.

Keith looks up at him, and Lance looks deep into those violet eyes and feels a pull somewhere inside him, a sudden desperation. He should tell Keith – he should take out the gloves –

‘Lance?’

‘It’s nothing,’ says Lance, looking away. ‘Are they in there?’

‘No,’ says Keith, sounding disappointed. He stands up again. ‘Sorry to bother you. I’ll see you at breakfast?’

‘Course.’

With another wistful smile, Keith leaves the room. Lance exhales heavily and tugs the gloves from his pocket, setting them on the table, just like the first time.

He goes into the bathroom to wipe his face. As he’s binning the cloth, he hears his door open again.

‘Lance?’ comes Keith’s voice. ‘I forgot to ask –‘

Oh, no.

Oh, _fuck_.

Lance’s eyes in the mirror are wide and terrified. He lets the lid of the bin fall closed before clenching his fists and steeling himself, then leaves the bathroom.

Keith’s eyes are fixed on the end table. When Lance appears in the doorway, his eyes flicker upwards, expression completely indiscernible.

Keith swallows and says, very quietly, ‘I forgot to ask you if you were feeling better.’ He looks back at the gloves and continues. ‘You felt ill at dinner. I guess I know why, now.’

Lance opens his mouth and closes it again.

‘Why did you take them?’ Keith asks, looking back up at Lance, hurt. ‘Was it to upset me?’

‘No,’ Lance tries to say.

‘Then why?’

Keith steps forward and grabs the gloves, holding the leather against his chest. His face is twisting with grief and anger. Then: ‘What the _fuck_ , Lance?’

‘I’m sorry,’ says Lance. ‘I wasn’t thinking. I just… took them, I didn’t – I’m so sorry, Keith.’

‘But why did you take them? What were you doing with them, if you weren’t meaning to hurt me?’ Keith is stepping backwards and looking increasingly tense. Lance moves forward cautiously, swallowing as he watches Keith tug the gloves back on.

‘Whatever,’ says Keith, one hand reaching for the door handle behind him. ‘Honestly, Lance.’

Lance has a choice. Either he holds on to the truth, and his dignity, but loses Keith – who might tell the rest of the team, and what then? – or he… tells the truth, surrenders his dignity… all for the chance of gaining Keith.

Keith would probably be disgusted. But would he tell the others? Lance doesn’t give himself enough time to answer.

‘I couldn’t have you,’ he says, voice achingly raw and throat lumpy. Keith stares at him. ‘Your gloves were the closest thing, and.’ Hot tears swell in his eyes and he drops his head. ‘I’m so sorry Keith, I didn’t mean to hurt you, but it felt so good to think it was you, and –‘

Keith’s hands – Keith’s gloved hands – are on his shoulders and gently pressing him to the side against the wall. Keith stares down at him, hot breath ghosting over Lance’s face.

‘You kinky fucker,’ he says, sounding amazed. ‘You like the gloves?’

‘I like _you_ ,’ breathes Lance. Keith arches an eyebrow, and an intense look crosses his face before he kisses Lance, hard and swift and all too short-lived. ‘The gloves are just a bonus.’

Keith grins widely at him. ‘Huh.’

‘What?’ asks Lance, defensive.

Keith stares at him impassively, then says, ‘I didn’t know you liked me like that.’

‘Neither did I,’ says Lance. ‘But you best believe it, Mullet.’ His voice is shaking. Keith smiles.

‘Can I kiss you again?’ he asks.

Lance nods and Keith leans in again, tilting his head. Lance closes the distance. Keith’s lips are chapped and warm. Their noses rub together and Lance leans into it, shifting their mouths to make it deeper. He leans into Keith, arching his back. Impulsively lifts a hand from its place at Keith’s side to slide into his hair. Keith pulls back for air and looks down into Lance’s eyes.

‘Can I touch you?’ he asks.

‘Yeah,’ says Lance. Keith’s hands inch under his sleepshirt and draw slow arcs over the skin with his thumbs. His touch is cold and Lance shivers, wanting more. ‘Take it off,’ Lance says boldly.

Keith pulls it over Lance’s head and lets it fall to the floor. He wraps his arms around Lance and pulls him closer, clutching him like something precious.

‘Have you done this before? Been with someone?’

‘No,’ Lance admits. ‘But I want to. With you.’

‘You want me?’

Lance has made his fair share of shitty decisions. He’s sure a smarter person wouldn’t have snuck out of the Garrison like he did. But this can’t be one. He knows with absolute clarity that this could be something amazing. Something beautiful. He looks up at Keith.

‘I want you,’ he says.

Keith’s hands on him are nothing but tender, now he knows. He’s put the gloves back on and is running his hands up and down Lance’s body. ‘Should we move to your bed?’

Lance doesn’t speak, just takes Keith’s hand and leads him over to sit on the mattress. Keith slowly pushes him down until Lance’s head touches the pillow. Lance spreads his legs.

‘You wanted this?’ he questions, hands drifting close to Lance’s cock without touching it.

‘Yes,’ says Lance.

Keith takes a slow, steady hold of him through his boxers. ‘I like you too,’ he says softly. ‘I would have…’

‘I didn’t – know,’ says Lance. ‘I thought you – hated me.’

‘No,’ says Keith sarcastically. ‘Never.’

Lance laughs, and Keith grins at him, and it’s all so perfect. Keith speeds his hand, slicking Lance up with precum and his own wet hand. Lance lifts his legs so Keith can pull down his boxers and discard them.

‘How far do you want to go?’ he asks, voice still so silky-soft.

‘I don’t mind,’ says Lance shakily.

‘What have you been doing with my gloves?’ growls Keith.

‘ _Ah_ – this, mostly.’

‘And? How about here?’ Keith presses his thumb on the flesh behind Lance’s balls.

‘Not – not inside,’ Lance says, then moans when Keith puts his thumb back on the head of his cock. ‘Felt – too dirty.’

‘Good boy,’ murmurs Keith. Lance trembles at the praise and arches into Keith, wanting him closer. He pulls Keith down by the neck to kiss him, and Keith’s grip on his cock stutters as Lance shoves his tongue into his mouth.

Keith breaks away and moves his right hand down to Lance’s entrance, very gently pressing the tips of his fingers into Lance’s inner thigh. His left hand he moves from Lance’s upper arm to wrap around his cock. Then, ‘Do you want me to do it, now?’

Oh my God. Lance has actually died and gone to Heaven.

Keith – _Keith_ – is asking Lance – _Lance_ – if he wants Keith’s fingers in his ass. His fingers – in _those gloves_ – in _Lance’s ass_.

‘Yes,’ Lance gasps, never quickly enough, ‘yes, yes _please_.’

‘Do you have lube?’

‘Middle drawer,’ he says. ‘Keith.’

‘Yeah?’ Keith looks at him from where he’s leaning over to the bedside table, and Lance can only watch him blearily and say, ‘Keith,’ again.

‘Yeah?’ He takes the lube and puts it next to Lance’s head. ‘What is it?’

‘Do you think you could…’ Lance gulps. ‘Do you think you could let me see you?’

Keith smiles like he can’t believe how cute Lance is. ‘Sure,’ he says. He pulls down his boxers and drops them next to Lance’s on the floor. Nothing – he’s wearing nothing – except those gloves. His cock juts proudly, thick. Lance licks his lips.

Keith comes back to the bed and kneels between Lance’s thighs. Lance bends his leg and rubs his calf over Keith’s dick, watching his eyes fall shut as his face blanks with pleasure.

Keith opens his eyes, staring at Lance with deep purple irises, then pulls his leg away, keeps them spread, and lubes up one finger. ‘Sure this is okay?’ he asks.

‘I’m sure,’ says Lance.

However much Lance has thought about this over the past few days, nothing compares to the real thing: the wet slide of Keith’s fingertip over his hole, the push into him and the stretch of Lance’s body around it. Lance stiffens on the bed out of reflex before exhaling, relaxing, and letting Keith deeper.

Keith slicks up a second finger and poises it next to the first, making sure there’s enough lube before adding it. Lance feels full, pleasantly so as Keith’s warm fingers, strange-textured from the leather, slide in and out of him. He closes his eyes as Keith idly strokes his cock with his other hand. Breathes deeply and surrenders to sensation.

Keith begins to crook his fingers, steadily progressing into Lance once more, pressing against his walls. He finds his prostate and watches hungrily as Lance bucks, moaning loudly, cock streaming precum over Keith’s gloves and Lance’s stomach. Fuck, it’s hot.

‘Lance,’ says Keith hoarsely. ‘Can I…’

‘Probably,’ mumbles Lance.

Keith’s neglected cock is swollen and throbbing near-painfully. He slots himself between Lance’s thighs and continues to massage his prostate awkwardly before withdrawing his fingers and lowering himself fully.

‘Uhn. _Jesus_ ,’ says Lance when Keith lines their cocks together, bringing one of Lance’s hands down as well as his own. They wrap around each other, together, and Keith leans down to kiss him again. It’s sloppy, hot and hungry as Keith bites Lance’s lips and relishes the muffled groan.

‘Lance,’ Keith gasps into his mouth, realising quite how undone he is. ‘Fuck, Lance.’

The boy beneath him whines and wraps his arms around Keith’s back, digging short fingernails into the flesh there. The sudden streak of pain sends Keith much closer to the edge than he was a minute ago, and he can’t avoid babbling. ‘Lance,’ he says again. ‘Fuck, Lance, you’re so fucking hot. I can’t wait to fuck you. I can’t wait to make you come on my cock.’

‘Keith,’ Lance moans, ‘Keith.’

‘You’re my baby, Lance,’ Keith murmurs, thrusting against him all the faster now, knowing they’re both close. ‘You’re mine.’

He captures Lance’s mouth with his own and catches his come with his hand. The spreading wetness pulls at the last thread keeping Keith together and he’s gone, too, boneless against Lance and half-covering him.

Idly Keith is aware of Lance reaching for a tissue, because he’s resting his head on Lance’s left arm and that’s the limb that moves. Lance wipes them down before pulling the covers over the both of them. He kisses Keith on the neck, where dark hairs are stuck sweaty against the skin.

Lance closes his eyes.


End file.
